


Punk!John

by stridaves



Category: Homestuck
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-12-25
Updated: 2013-03-02
Packaged: 2017-11-22 08:28:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 4,448
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/607831
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stridaves/pseuds/stridaves
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>in which john is a punk dave is a loser and they kiss</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

You lean against the back of your school, smoke curling around your glasses. Sighing, you lean back, taking a long drag off your cigarette, and breathing in enough that it burns. School’s not dismissed yet, and the only way someone could see you is if luck isn’t on your side. Luck is usually on your side.  


You start when you hear footsteps coming closer to you, echoing off the walls to make them sound louder. Your teachers don’t like you very much (it’s because of your tattoos, you think), and they’d be sure to get you in as much trouble as possible if they caught you out here. Dad would kill you.  


You relax when a teacher doesn’t round the corner to see you, but rather that slightly outcast Strider guy, who barely ever speaks. He has a demeanor about him that makes him slightly unapproachable in the first place, and with his looks, he could pull that off and make it work for him. But once he talks, it’s all fumbling over words and stuttering. Not quite as smooth as he’d like to seem.  
Your lips twitch upwards into a lopsided smirk as he nears you. ”Hey, Dave.” You’re already bending over to pull another cigarette out of your backpack.  


He pauses, then answers with an unsure, “S-sup, Egbert.”  


You pause to take your lighter out of your pocket, then proceed to take a long, slow, drag. You puff out slowly, taking your time. When you finally answer, all he gets is a, “Not much. What’re you doing out here, anyway?”  


He moved to Washington from somewhere south, and once you hear him speak, you can tell. He never quite got rid of that drawl.  
“Doctor’s appointment. Just walkin’ to my car, is all.” He jerked his thumb vaguely towards the senior’s parking lot.  


You wave your still open pack at him questioningly, and he frowns, shaking his head. “Don’t d-do that shit, um, John. It, uh, kills, y’know…”  


You simply raise your eyebrows at him, and shrug. “Ever tried it?”  


He sighs, shaking his head. “N-no, I kinda like my lungs…”  


You laugh, taking another cigarette out and step forward to shove it towards him. “Look. One won’t hurt.”  


Dave hesitated, glancing back and forth between the drug you were offering him and your face. Finally, he gave in, taking it and putting it between his lips.  


You grin, knowing you’ve won, and go to retrieve your lighter from your pocket again. You pause, glancing up at him. “D’you know how to smoke?”  


His fingers play with he hem of his shirt, and he rolls his cigarette between his teeth. Slowly, he shakes his head.  


Sighing again, you take another drag, making sure to make it obvious when you breath in. Slowly, you puff out again. You look towards him. “Got it?”  


He looks nervous, but nods his head all the same. You lean over to light him up, and he inhales, immediately going into a coughing fit and dropping the cigarette, putting it out with his shoe.  
“T-thats so fffucking g-gross!” His face is of pure disgust and he looks toward the cigarette still in your mouth with repulsion.  
“I don’t get you.” He starts toward his car again, now most likely smelling like smoke.  


You just laugh.


	2. Chapter 2

The rest of the day is uneventful; spritzing yourself with cologne in a half-assed attempt to cover up the smell of smoke, Dad frowning at you when you come home (he doesn’t say he’s proud of you very much anymore), you not caring and going up to your room to (not) do homework.  


When you sign on to your computer, a chat message immediately pops up. Reading it, you see it’s Rose asking if you’re still up for seeing a movie with her like you’d planned, and asking if she can bring her brother.  


Rose has a brother?  


You shrug to yourself, saying yeah, whatever, bring him along, you don’t care.  


With that she says goodbye, signs off, and you’re left to yourself.  


You were too wound up to sit still, so you went ahead and showered long before it could be considered time to get ready. Your routine was too short for your needs; a quick scrub, toweling off, throwing a shirt and jeans on, and you were finished. Left with too much time. Time that you used to think.  


Think isn’t really the best word for what you’re doing, you guess. Laying stomach-down on your bed with your face shoved in your too hot pillow while letting your mind wander is more accurate. Your glasses are shoved uncomfortably against the bridge of your nose, but your mind isn’t focused on that right now. Nor is it focused on how your room probably reeks of smoke right now, or how you should be studying for the two classes you’re failing. It’s not focused on how your oh-so-perfect cousin Jade probably is studying right now, and how Dad is proud of her. Not focused on how you stopped caring all that much, and you don’t care enough about the fact you’ve stopped caring.  


Those things are always on your mind. On your mind when you take a drag of a cig, clouding your brain and making you feel like you’re walking on air. On your mind when you chose to rebel, to push everyone away, to make yourself an outcast, mark yourself with tattoos that show who you are (you think).  


Now is the time you use to not remember, but not forget. To simply cease. Life is a constant game of tug-of-war, trying to pull people closer, clinging onto memories, or, pushing things away, wishing to forget. This time is you taking a moment to breathe.  


You’re addicted to cigarettes, you know that. You’re nervous, you light up. Memories you need to forget are tugging at your mind, you light up. You feel the need for one, you light up. You’ve never smoked during this time of yours. This time is for the raw you; alone.  
—  


Time seems to slip away from you when you cease; it’s understandable, you think. It’s relaxing and calming, and you don’t recall ever wanting to stop. But a text from Rose inquiring if you’ve left for the theatre yet forces you up and out of your bed as you stumble into your shoes while responding that yes, of course, you’re already halfway there.  


You glance in the mirror trying to straighten your inevitably messy hair (giving up after five seconds), and dash down the stairs, opening the door to tell Dad you’ll be back later (he doesn’t respond).  


Rose hasn’t responded, nor did you expect her to; you’ll be seeing her soon, after all.  


You take a moment to wonder about her brother. She doesn’t talk about her dad, or brother, very often. Until fairly recently it had been just her and her mom, but financial troubles led the broken other half of her family to move into Rose’s house here in Washington. It wasn’t awkward, she’d said. They all get along fairly well, and it had been lonely with her mom by herself anyway. Though her mom and dad had divorced, they still got along quite well. Rose and her brother run in different social circles, you think. Sure, they got along, but you’d never met him before. In school it was just you and Rose, the weird punk and the goth, and you’ve never seen Rose around someone that looked remotely like herself.  


Well, you guess you’ll meet him tonight.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for infrequent updates! gosh i hope this is okay though dfjhsdkfj

You take your time when you arrive at the movie theater. You know exactly where Rose will be; the two of you have set up a designated spot, not formally, but it has become tradition to meet there anyway. On the far let of the front doors you see her, just where you expect her to be. She's dressed in her normal clothes, which consists of a black jacket, black lipstick, black eyeshadow, black most things. Accented with some pink. But mostly black.

Next to her, you see who you assume is her brother. Also a blonde, about the same height, as you get closer you see he's wearing jeans, a red hoodie, and has shades on...that can't be her brother, can it? 

"Hey, Rose...and, uh, Dave...?" You approach cautiously, eyeing Dave the entire time. You see Rose smirking out of the corner of your eye, but pay no attention to her. "Stalking me today, Strider, eh?" 

Dave goes red in the cheeks, and splutters, "W-what the hell is t-that supposed to mean, Jo-Egbert?" 

You grin mischievously at Rose, then slide your gaze back to Dave. "Well, first you bum a cig off of me; then waste it, I might add. Now you're following me to the movies. That's weird, dude." 

Dave somehow manages to choke on his own tongue, before getting out, "I didn't even know y-you were coming to this!" 

Rose finally steps in, putting a hand on your shoulder, and a hand on Dave's chest. "John, if you're through tormenting my brother, could we go see a movie now, please?" 

You deadpan, looking from Rose, to Dave, and back again. "You guys...are siblings?" You furrow your brow, and feel a dull pang in the back of your head. Damn, you need a cigarette. They both simply stare at you, almost expectantly, and the more you think it through, the more their stories match up. Both divorced parents, Dave moved up from Texas, Rose's brother moved here recently... "Huh. Should've known. Anyway, so, uh." You glance at Dave, then stare down at your shoes. You notice he does the same. "I guess we're all going to see a movie, then." 

\-- 

Watching the movie was uneventful; after a brief argument with Rose about which candy to buy (she won; you had to eat twizzlers. ew.), the three of you sat together, you in the middle. You and rose did what you always do, which is make snarky comments back and forth about the stupidity of whatever movie you're watching. Dave was fairly quiet, but you could've sworn he'd laughed at a couple things you'd said. 

After the movie is over, your head is pounding. You need to light up. Now. You rub the back of your head, sighing, and mutter to Rose, "C'mon, we'll go around back." She shoots you an understanding look, tugging a bewildered Dave along behind her. 

Once safely tucked away in the shadows behind the theater, out of sight from any adults that might catch you, you sigh, bringing your lighter to the tip of a fresh cigarette, inhaling deeply once it catches. You offer Rose once, and she shakes her head, pulling out her own pack. 

Dave stands awkwardly in front of the two of you, trying not to smell nor taste the smoke you and Rose are emitting. You can clearly see him wrinkle his nose when you exhale, and you want to laugh. 

Instead you just grin, nodding to him to get his attention. "Hey. You obviously don't like this very much, huh? Wanna try it again?" You raise your hand, the glowing embers of your cigarette smoking lightly. "Except this time you'll get it in an easier way. I promise you'll like it better." 

He looked cautious, but still took the bait. "W-what're you talkin' about, Egbert?" 

You grin. “Ever shotgunned someone, Dave?” 

Confusion is the most prominent feature on his face. “Huh?” 

Your grin widens. “Shotgunning, Dave. I guess it’s a stupid question, considering the first time you smokes was this afternoon. But. It’s like smoking with a cig, but easier.” You pause, staring at him. “Ever kissed someone?” 

You can tell his face reddened, even in the dim light. “W-why the fuck would y-y-you wanna know?” 

You ignore his question, instead taking another drag, making sure to make your face look as relaxed as possible. “Look. Shotgunning is basically smoking, ‘cept cigs can be kinda tough for poor little Daves.” You smirk. “So I inhale smoke, and when I exhale, you inhale my smoke. It’s easier. Wanna try?” 

You can almost see the gears turning in his head. “How do I inhale your smoke…?” 

”Looks like you caught on.” You take a long drag, holding it in your lungs as you say, “Pucker up, Dave.” 

He stands stock still, so you move towards him. He parts his lips slightly, hesitantly, but you still take that as the go ahead. You cover his mouth with your own, and when you feel him responding, helping make the seal so the smoke won’t escape, you breathe out, and feel his chest brush yours as he breathes in. 

You pull back, watching his face. He’s still for a moment, then breathes out a long stream of smoke. 

He looks at the smoke rise up, and fade away slowly. Then he turns back to you. “That wasn’t so bad.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is short but i couldnt get it out of my head so here you go

You raise your eyebrows, eyes widening slightly behind your glasses because, woah, you’re pretty sure that was the first time you heard Dave not stuttering his ass off. You’re about to make some snappy retort when you hear something that makes you turn.

Rose clears her throat, and you, having momentarily forgotten she was there, jump slightly. “Well,” she starts, a confident smile set in place, but you can still see surprise and some shock in her eyes. “If you boys are done, I’m out, and cold, so I’m leaving now. Coming?” She flicks the bud of her cigarette on the ground, and begins to walk away. 

You and Dave shoot each other a quick look before following after her. Before long, the three of you are standing in from of Rose’s beat up car (“it’s vintage, john. “no rose, it’s just a piece of shit.”). You shuffle your feet, staring at Rose and only Rose as you say, “Well, bye. I’ll see you tomorrow…” your eyes slide over to Dave, as you mutter, “…or whenever. Later.” You spin on your heel, speed walking away from the two of them, going straight to your car, and hopping in, but not starting it yet. 

You pause, hand in your pocket reaching for your key, to think about what you just did. You just shotgunned with Dave, that’s what you did. 

You shake your head; it’s not a big deal, shotgunning isn’t even kissing, it means nothing. Yet… 

You weren’t really sure why you’d brought it up in the first place. He obviously didn’t want to smoke, anyway. But the feeling of his lips against yours wasn’t half bad. 

And, if he didn’t want to smoke (which you’re positive he didn’t), he was pretty willing to shotgun with you. 

Well. Maybe you should get to know this dork Dave Strider a little better.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hot damn i'm updating like it's going out of style  
> though these are short  
> gomen  
> anyway yes enjo y

When you get home, you watch something that has never failed to relax you; Con Air. Yeah, you know it’s a terrible movie (though the thirteen year old inside you might disagree), but it’s familiar, just like slipping into a worn, old pair of jeans. They might not be the prettiest thing, but they bring a sense of calmness over you nonetheless.

Halfway through watching it, you idly check your phone. Three new texts form Jade, sent two hours ago. This should be good. 

_john, are you coming over to study for history??? your dad said you should. see you soon!!!_

_jooooooohn. where are you????? dad’s getting kinda worried!!_

_im going to bed now but answer when you get these!_

You pause, gaze hovering over the second text. Dad was worried? He didn’t seem to care at all; in fact, you haven’t seen him since you got back. 

You stop the movie, quietly stepping up the stairs before you reach your Dad’s bedroom. You creep into the doorway, cautiously peering in. 

He’s sound asleep, but still seemed to have a stressed look on his face. You notice he’s clutching his phone, and still wearing work clothes. The sheets aren’t even pulled up around him. 

You decide to fix that. Slowly, ever so slowly, you tip-toe closer until you can see the soft rise and fall of his chest. You take the blankets spread around him, draping them over his shoulders. He sighs as you remove his hat from where it had fallen off of his head, placing it on a bedside table. 

You walk back out, but turn as you hear him mumble something. You glance over your shoulder, but see he’s still asleep. You continue walking and make your way to your room, and don’t stop moving until you’re tucked in bed, still fully dressed, asleep before you have enough time to think of Dave’s lips against yours again. 

\-- 

A harsh beeping is the first thing you’re aware of when you wake up. You grasp around your bedside table for your glasses, but not finding them there, search blindly around your bed until you find that they fell on your neck. You wipe the sleep from your eyes before putting them on, grabbing jeans and a shirt before stepping into the bathroom to shower. 

The hot water does a decent job of waking you up, but the smell of pancakes drifting up from downstairs does an even better one. You dash down the stairs and into the kitchen, slightly startled when you find it empty. You move towards the stove, finding freshly cooked pancakes, and a note that read: 

_John,_

_Have a good start to a great day._

_I’m prou_

_-Dad_

After the “prou” there’s a scratched, smudged thing that looked like it had meant to be erased, but the earaser had failed miserablly. 

You frown at the note a moments longer, before crumpling it, throwing it away, and digging into the still steaming pancakes.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> poor dave bby  
> dave's POV!!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for irregular updates kjdfsd  
> school is awful and kdjs yeah sorry   
> hope you enjoy ok

The morning starts off per usual, getting up five minutes past rushing, Rose's daily threats of driving off without you, her parking at her usual spot and saying a simple, "Goodbye, Dave," before striding away to the school. Except, this time, you don't respond with your normal "Later." You hesitate, mouth opening slowly before snapping shut again,  


Of course, being the annoyingly observant sister she is, she notices.

"What is it?" She spins on her heel, moving towards you. "Is something wrong?" She has her usual passive expression on, but you can still see the slight glimmer of curiosity burning deep in her eyes. She's not going to give this one up. 

"N-nothin'," you say, internally damning your fucking stuffer that you can't seem to get rid of, and trying to play it off. "Later, I guess." You walk past her, crossing your fingers that she doesn't pursue you. That was, unfortunately, in vain. 

You hear steps hurrying after you before there's a hand on your shoulder. "You're not getting out of this one," and you can almost hear accusation in her voice. "What, just want to talk to John?" 

You blink, and your mind goes blank. _Is_ that it?

"Uh," you start, stupidly.

A wicked smile curls her black painted lips, and you know she has you. "Well, if that's all, come on. You know I see him every morning." 

"That's not w-what I meant and you fffucking know it!" You hate your stutter so much and you hate how well Rose can read you and oh god she's taking your hand and leading you over to where she meets him and god you swear you can see him and no you cannot do this.

Being the fucking coward you are, you all but hide behind Rose as she approaches John. His gaze is fixed on you, and your eyes lock for a moment before you look away, cheeks turning scarlet. You swear your tongue is swelling up. 

You hate Rose. 

She drops your hand and greets John, and you look up just in time to see his gaze flick over to her face. You try to shrink behind her, hoping for the first period bell to ring, a fire to break out, anything to get you out of this. 

Rose nudges you slightly and you know she's trying to get you to talk but you can't do it. You can't bring your mouth to open, because you know exactly what will happen. Your expression will break and your voice will crack and tumble and fall and you're image will be ruined like it is time and time again. 

Usually, you couldn't care less. But, this time, it matters to you somehow. 

You can't lose your chance with all of this because you're a fucking loser who never learned how to talk. 

You mutter something about needing to go to your locker that you're sure neither of them caught, before pushing through the crowd to get out, away from there, to escape your voice. 

There's really only one place where you're as smooth as you'd like everyone to think you are. That place is mixing beats, creating pumping rhythms that rock your core but settle you at the same time. 

You go to the music room, pushing past the instruments and heading towards the single computer they let you bring in. Glancing at a clock, you see you have a solid thirty minutes before class starts. Perfect. Settling down and firing up your computer, you let yourself get lost in smooth waves of beats washing over you, drowning your own voice out, but still managing to make you speak louder than ever. 

A presence in the room makes you stop playing, and take a look at the clock again. Five minutes till first period. Spinning around in your chair, you see none other than an irate looking Rose standing before you. 

"You really shouldn't have run off," she starts, voice threatening. 

"Yeah yeah sure whatever fuck off." To your relief, your voice hasn't cracked. "Don't drag me into that bullshit and get pissy when I don't want no part in it, 'kay?" Standing up, you walk towards her, till you're standing next to her. "...and I will talk to him." Your voice is quiet, slightly embarrassed. "Just. Gimme some warning first, alright?" 

You catch a glimpse of her satisfied smirk before exiting the room, moving out into the busy hallway, and letting the sea of students sweep you away.


	7. Chapter 7

First period is uneventful. As is second, third, forth, fifth. Then sixth period rolls around; science.

You’ve always been fairly good at science; you kind of have a thing for biology. Doesn’t keep you from not giving a single shit about what grade you get in this class, though. Which is why you’re two minutes late walking in, the teacher giving you a glare, though, honestly? You’re surprised she expected anything different. 

The class’s eyes are all on you as you take your seat, the way they always seem to linger on whoever enters the room. You don’t notice them, except for one that is. A certain gaze that is obscured by the shades he’s wearing. 

“…and you’ll be working in partners, completing pages one through five, and filling out the sheet to go along with it. Now, I’ll be assigning the pairs…” You’re brought back to class by the teacher’s words and the unanimous groan of the students. There are twenty-six students in the class; she tells everyone to count off by thirteen. One, two, three, four, five… the students count off one by one, and you’re left being paired with a douchebag named Eric. You sigh internally, biting your cheek and hoping to get this over with. 

Out of the corner of your eye, you see Dave talking to the teacher, his partner sitting alone at what would have been their combined working space. To your surprise, he heads over to you after his conversation seemed to have been completed. 

You turn your head away from his as he approaches, busying with organizing your worksheet and glancing up at Eric. You feel a tap on your shoulder. 

“H-hey, um,” you turn, and none other than Dave Strider is behind you. “I…talked to the teacher, and? Uh, asked her if we could be, like, partners. And. She said yes.” You feel his gaze flick pointedly between you and Eric. 

“Fine, Wah-tever.” Eric always pronounced his w’s rather oddly; you just tended to ignore it. 

You raise your eyebrows at Dave as he moves to take Eric’s spot. You offer him a hesitant grin. “So,” you start, “let’s get this worksheet done, eh?”


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> next chapter is d8 time :ooo

You start the assignment in silence, scanner over the pages you were given and quietly scribbling in answers to questions that don’t really matter to you. It’s not until Dave gives an obviously forced cough that you look up. “So,” he started, “I uh…” a pained expression crosses his face, and he just asks, “what’d you get for number eight?”

You sigh through your nose, turning away from him again. You weren’t about to push him. Without looking up, you reply, “Find it yourself, Dave. It’s right there,” you say, pointing a finger in the general direction of where you found it. 

He pushes the book away from him, and turns in his chair to face you completely. “Dude, we’re partners. Gotta work this out together, man.” He brings his fists together as he says this, and you find it very endearing. Does he always talk with his hands? 

“Together,” you reply, turning and mimicking his hand movements. He blushes slightly, dropping his fists and returning to his work. 

It’s five minutes till he speaks again. His face has that same pained look, and he’s playing with a loose string on his shirt. “So…” he mumbles, and you can swear you see his knee trembling. “The movies. That was…f-fun…” 

Ah. So that’s where this is going. “Yeah…”you scratch the back of your neck. Wow, smooth. You need to try to help this out for the both of you. “You know that stupid shotgunning thing didn’t have to mean anything, right…?” Wait, what? What the hell did you mean ‘have to’? You’re making it sound like you wanted it to mean something! Backtrack, you idiot! “I mean, it didn’t. Like. At all.” You laugh awkwardly. Well. Way to go. 

“Oh.” He bites his lip, and your gaze flicks to it. You remember how soft his lips felt on yours. “S-so, I, uh, I guess going to a movie some time again is out?” 

Wait, what? 

“What? Really? You’d want to?” Did you really sound that excited, or was that all just in your head? 

He half grins. “Yeah, sure. It’d be pretty cool.” 

You smile back. “Okay.” 

He turns back to his work, scribbling another answer down. “Okay.”


End file.
